Column’s up; blurbs are terrific; pain and joy intertwined.

I was at a funeral for most of today and at a wake last night, so I was behind on it. It just got posted.

I find myself getting sentimental about this as the time winds down to the last column, but I suppose I’m entitled.

Anyway, it’s short and actually sweet this week…a diversion from the week’s events. It includes the poem from my last entry and some thoughts on the place of a poet in dark times.

If you must read it, and of course you must, head over here.

___________________________________________________________

I’m about done with blurbs for the book. Thanks to all who sent something along; hoping we go to print this week.

___________________________________________________________

I think, sometimes, that social change is one of the most difficult things we do not because of the big battles, but because of the small ones — the individual conversations in which you try to make a difference.

When it works, it’s empowering.

When it doesn’t, it can leave us heartsick.

We should do it anyway, of course. Who else will?

I just hate the pain that sometimes comes from it; the breaking relationships, the cold stares, the bafflement and the anger.

It sometimes seems not to be worth it. Better, I sometimes think, to keep silent.

But I know I do that too often. So…

I recommit myself to enduring immediate pain in the pursuit of eventual joy.